Only God Knows
by TheWriteWay4Me
Summary: An overly religious and sometimes abusive father has instilled a fear of men and of God in Brenda that seems impossible to break... until she starts to work at her uncle's construction company and meets a certain roofer. Set about a month or so after the events of the book. Rated T for scenes to come later on!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! So I was sitting up the other night and thought this idea up. I hope you all enjoy it! Please review, and let me know what you think! I only own Brenda and her family, the others are all S.E. Hinton's wonderful creations!**

"What am I going to do?" she mumbled to herself, sinking down to the floor from where her back rested against the wall. Her head was spinning, to the point where she knew a migraine was in her immediate future. If someone had told her three months ago that this was going to happen to her, she would've have thought they were completely crazy. But now it had, and now she had no clue how she was going to cope…

***Three months earlier***

"No, that's not right," Brenda muttered, tossing the skirt she held to the side. Her usually neat bedroom was covered in a various assortment of tops and skirts, all discarded for one reason or another. Today was the first day of her new job and she wanted to look perfect. Well, looking _perfect _wasn't possible for a plain Jane like her, but she could at least look nice. She sighed, and, choosing another outfit from her closet, got dressed.

After brushing back her waist length, mousy-brown hair, and completing her outfit with her Christopher medal, she went downstairs to have breakfast. Her dad looked up from his paper, and threw a simple, "Button the top button and stop showing so much, you harlot!" Brenda sighed and did as he asked. Her dad was what most would call a religious zealot. Brenda had felt his belt more than once in her life for not pleasing his strict standards. Roger Seale had strict, 1800's modesty standards for his only daughter. Brenda was made to wear floor length skirts, and long sleeved button down blouses with _every_ button closed. She had never been allowed to wear makeup or cut her hair, and had been forbidden to date. Roger had told her that God would send the right man into her life, and only then would he allow a male to see his daughter as more than a friend.

Brenda's mother, Elizabeth, had stopped some of her father's tyranny while she was alive. Only because of Elizabeth did Brenda have any fond memories of her childhood. Brenda shook herself from her thoughts and checked the time. It was 8:20 and she had to be at work by 8:40. Grabbing her purse, Brenda kissed her father and ran for her car.

Arriving at work at 8:35, Brenda clocked in and went to the office to see what her uncle wanted her to do. John Watson was Elizabeth's brother and had promised to care for Brenda after his sister's passing. So, when she had graduated secretarial school, her uncle had a job waiting for her at his construction company. John smiled when Brenda entered his office.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you this morning?" John asked, standing to hug his niece. Brenda smiled and returned the embrace, then pulled back to answer his question.

"I'm fine, Uncle John," she said, smiling. "I was coming to see what you needed me to do."

"There are some work orders I need filed, right over there," he pointed to the desk he had set up for her, and, sure enough, there was a stack of work orders there for her to file. "After that, I will show you how to fill out the workers' time log, and then how to use the log to issue paychecks at the end of the week. Somewhere during all this, we can catch some lunch. How does that sound?" He smiled at his niece, who looked so much like his sister, it was eerie at times. Brenda grinned at him and went over to the desk to get straight to work.

About half-way through the morning, as Brenda was carefully filling out the time log to correspond to the worker's time cards, a knock came at the office door. "Come in!" her uncle yelled gruffly from his desk, continuing to write out equipment orders. A tall man with a muscular build and a tough expression on his face entered the office. John looked up. "Morning, Darrel, how's everything looking out there?"

"Morning, Mr. Watson," the man said, his deep voice a rumble from his throat. Brenda was intrigued, and, although she knew eavesdropping was wrong, she tuned into the conversation while she continued her work. "Everything's looking good; the guys are working hard to finish on time and on budget."

"Excellent, "her uncle said, smiling. "To what do I owe this visit?" The tall man, Darrel, looked down sheepishly, turning red. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke quietly.

"Mr. Watson, I need to leave a little early today. My younger brother has a doctor's appointment to check and make sure his head is alright from that concussion. I know last month had me out a lot, and I hate to ask, but Soda can't get off, and one of us has to be with him or Ponyboy will kick-"her uncle stopped Darrel mid-sentence.

"Don't think anything of it, Darrel," John said, grinning. "I have three kids of my own, so I know how inconvenient doctors' appointments can be. After everything ya'll have been through, I'm honestly surprised you have the sanity to come back to work at all." Darrel grinned half-heartedly at John's comment. "I hope you will agree to have lunch with me and my niece, however?"

It was then that the man seemed to notice Brenda. He smiled and gave a shy wave in her direction. She smiled back, blushed, and went back to her work. John grinned and looked to Darrel for an answer. Darrel nodded and thanked the man for his understanding and invitation, then excused himself back to his work. As he left, Brenda found herself full of questions, the most pressing one being:

"Did he just say _Soda_ couldn't get off work and _Ponyboy _would kick the doctor if he wasn't there?" she asked, disbelief in her voice. She briefly wondered if Darrel was the one recovering from a concussion. Her uncle laughed, shaking his head.

"Yes, he did. I knew Darrel's father, and, God rest his soul, he made sure his kids wouldn't be confused with anyone else," John said, still grinning at the expression on his niece's face.

"I see," Brenda said, still in shock slightly. After a brief pause, she asked, "How did- Ponyboy, is it? - get a concussion?" Her uncle grin faded and his eyes darkened.

"Poor boy got kicked in the head in a fight about two weeks back. Darrel has had a rough year. His parents were killed in a car accident about ten months ago; then about a month and a half ago, his little brother runs off with a friend of his who killed another boy in self-defense. Things just kinda escalated from there. Poor kid works two jobs, Soda works at the local DX station to help out, and they make it, but this month has just been extra rough, especially with Darrel having to miss work while Pony was in the hospital." Her uncle shook his head and rose from his desk, stretching. John looked at his watch, and, noticing it was about fifteen minutes until noon, he turned to Brenda. "Why don't we go for a walk around the site? Stretch our legs and work up an appetite before lunch?"

Brenda nodded and rose from her chair, realizing how stiff she was from sitting all morning. After a quick stretch, Brenda and her uncle set off around the construction site. The crew was currently working on an apartment complex that stood on about five acres of land. The project was one of the biggest her uncle's company had undertaken to date and Brenda knew it would mean big paychecks for all of the crew. She said a little prayer that Darrel's family would be helped by the extra income. As they circled the back of the building, she could see workers beginning to come down the ladders as the noon whistle sounded. Her uncle spotted Darrel and waved him over. "I want you to come eat with Brenda and me, remember?" Darrel looked shy and began to try to politely refuse. Her uncle cut him off. "I insist. Molly is bringing a picnic lunch over and she has been dying to meet my new assistant supervisor in training. So, why don't you go wash up a little and meet us back in the office?" Darrel nodded and walked over to the sinks that had been rigged on site for just that reason.

When all three of them had returned to the office, they were met by Brenda's Aunt Molly, a tiny woman who Brenda had admired her whole life. After her mom had died, Molly had taken Brenda under her wing, teaching her the things a woman needed to know. Molly was strong and independent, and she and John had what Brenda would call the perfect marriage, if there were such a thing. Molly had been a stay at home wife and mother for twenty years, with three teenagers who loved her dearly. Brenda and her cousins were close, but she did envy them ever so slightly because of the close family relationship they had.

"Hey, Brenda, how are you, sweetheart?" Brenda was snapped from her thoughts by her aunt's sweet voice. She smiled and hugged Molly happily. "I brought your favorite to celebrate your first day at work. You still love fried chicken, right dear?" Brenda grinned and nodded. After clearing John's desk, they sat down to enjoy a meal together, with Brenda ending up beside Darrel, which made her nervous and… excited at the same time.

After they had eaten and cleaned up, Darrel expressed his thanks and returned to work. Brenda and her uncle both returned to their desks and the tasks at hand, but Brenda found her mind wandering to thoughts of Darrel all afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! So I want to thank everyone for their reviews on chapter one of my fic! Here is chapter two, for those of you who have been waiting! I want to apologize for a couple of typos in chapter one; they have been fixed! Once again, I do not own the boys; I just enjoy borrowing them on occasion for the situations I dream up! On with the story!**

Darry looked at his watch and realized he needed to leave now if he wanted to get Ponyboy to the doctor on time. He quickly descended the ladder with practiced ease and headed toward Mr. Watson's office to clock out. He was thankful that his boss understood his plight. Mr. Watson was quite a bit better than some of the guys his dad had worked under; most of them wouldn't let a guy off if he had broken every bone in his body and had third degree burns. Darry smiled at his own exaggeration and knocked on the door to the trailer where Mr. Watson's office was.

"Come in!" Darry heard a female voice from inside and remembered the secretary from earlier. He entered the trailer and carefully shut the door behind him. He took a moment to appreciate the cool air, and then looked over at the young woman who was busily typing. She looked up when she felt his eyes on her. "Can I do something for you, sir?"

"Yes, please don't call me sir," Darry said with a small chuckle. She blushed and nodded. "May I ask where Mr. Watson is? I came to clock out so I could take my brother to the doctor." She looked as if she were thinking for a moment, grinning when the realization hit her.

"You're Darrel, right?" she said quietly. He nodded. "Uncle John said to expect you; he had to go speak with a potential client. I have your time card right here." She patted the folder beside her, but made no move to open it or hand Darry his card. He felt a bit uncomfortable, wondering if Mr. Watson had changed his mind about his leaving early. When the young woman realized he was confused, she smiled at him. "Uncle John said not to let you clock out when you left, but to clock you out at the end of the day. He said you deserve full hours for- I believe he put it- 'Keeping all those roof-crawlers out there straight!'" She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "Besides, there is only an hour left in the workday before everyone leaves."

Darry couldn't believe how generous his boss was being about the whole situation. First inviting him to lunch- which had been amazing! - and now not docking his pay for leaving early. He smiled and said a small prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening. He smiled at the girl- Brenda was her name, he believed, - and asked, "Can you thank him for me? And tell your aunt that her fried chicken is the best I've had in a while!" Brenda nodded and went back to her typing.

As Darry headed for the door, he heard her say, "Good luck with the doctor! I hope your brother feels better soon!" Darry nodded his appreciation and walked out to his truck. As he tossed his tool belt in the back, he wondered what made Mr. Watson decided to hire a secretary? He had never had one in the past. Darry shrugged; must be a family favor he owed to someone. He had no idea how right he really was.

Darry drove home and found Pony on the porch with a book, waiting for him. The young boy sulked out to the truck, not happy at all about having to go to the doctor. "Hey Dare," he mumbled, buckling up.

"Hey, Pone," Darry said, holding back a chuckle at the look on his brother's face. Pony's hair was slowly growing back out to its original reddish-brown color, but you could still see the blond, which started at his ears, and went all the way to the tips. "How was school?"

"Pretty good," Pony perked up slightly, a smile coming across his face. "I got an A on that math test. Thanks for the memory trick, it really helped!" Darry grinned, nodding at his brother. Darry was tempted to ask how high of an A, but restrained himself from it. Since their last big fight, when Soda had run out, Darry tried to be proud of how hard Pony worked and only push him when a push was needed. In all honesty, he was just glad his brother wasn't walking around in a trance anymore. Writing that theme had really seemed to help, in more ways than one. Darry thought of something that needed to be addressed though. "Have you gotten your grade back on that theme, yet?"

Pony thought for a moment, and then nodded. "I got it back yesterday. Mr. Symes said that it was one of the best English themes he has read in a while. I got an A+, and he even boosted my grade to a B- for the year since I agreed to let him use it in his other classes." Darry smiled at his brother. They had reached the doctor's office and as Darry swung the truck into a parking space, Pony went back to pouting. He honestly had had enough of hospitals to do him the rest of his life. Darry sympathized with that fact, a little more so since the bills had come in last week. But, he had found a pleasant surprise when opening them. Written at the bottom was a note which read:

If not for your brother and his friend, my daughter would not be here today. I consider that payment enough for my services. -Sincerely, Dr. Howell

Although that didn't reduce the bills by much, it still took a little pressure off of Darry and made him grateful. Things had begun to look up for the small family, slowly but surely. They entered the office and as Pony went over to a seat, Darry went to the front desk to sign him in. He then took a seat beside his brother to wait.

"Ponyboy Curtis," a nurse smiled at them as they wondered back into the hallway. The nurse took Pony's height and weight, and Darry was surprised to see that the boy had grown a full inch and a half since his last checkup two months ago. He knew that they would soon have to go pants shopping if Pony kept getting taller, since all of Soda's old pants would no longer fit him. Soda was now the shortest of the brothers, at 5'9''. Pony was 5'11 and steadily growing. Darry knew none of his old pants would fit his brother, since he was bigger in the waist, with all of his extra muscle… and a little fat he had gained since he was no longer playing high school football. The weight didn't show, but Darry still made a mental note to go to the gym.

They had entered a small exam room and silently waited for the doctor, Darry continuing to let his mind wander. He was startled from his thoughts as the doctor came in. "Hello, boys, how are we today?"

"Hey, Doc," Pony answered, grinning slightly. Although he hated visiting, he liked Dr. Howell just fine. Dr. Howell smiled and began his usual pre-checkup checks; heart, lungs, ears, throat, reflexes, and eyes. Then he began checking for signs that Pony wasn't recovering normally from his concussion. After a moment, he looked up with a grin.

"Everything looks normal, I think I don't need to see him again until next year," he patted Pony on the shoulder and then added, "But no more head injuries for a while, understand?" Pony smiled and nodded. After making payment arrangements with the receptionist out front, they got in the truck and headed home.

Darry walked through the front door to find his house a war zone. Soda and Steve were on the floor, wrestling over who had cheated at poker in their usual fashion. The TV was up too loud, as was the radio, and Soda's jacket was on the floor. Everything was right, Darry thought to himself. He wandered to his bedroom to change clothes and clean up, then back into the kitchen to check the status of supper. As he expected, he found bright blue mashed potatoes with purple gravy, and red corn on the stove, along with a meatloaf in the oven; it had been Soda's night to cook.

After calling peace in the living room and eating their meal, the boys went back into the living room to hang out, Pony working on homework, Steve and Soda watching TV, and Darry in his chair, reading his paper. However, his mind wasn't on the paper at that particular moment. He was thinking back to his boss's secretary, wondering why on God's green earth the girl seemed scared of him and why she was wearing long sleeves in hot weather. The whole time they had sat beside each other at lunch, the poor girl had shook. Darry had attempted to make conversation with her, but he had only gotten one or two words out of her at best. She had seemed a bit better this afternoon, but had spoken so fast Darry had had trouble understanding her. Darry knew he was big, but he wasn't _that _big, was he? Maybe the girl was just nervous her first day on the job, but he couldn't help but think of Johnny when he looked at her. Johnny had had that same quiet voice, that same scared look. Was it possible that this young woman…? He shook his head at the thought. She looked to be about his age, so surely she was out of her parents' house by now. Besides, he hadn't seen any bruises. Darry quickly stopped that train of thought, and went back to his paper.

The night went on in relative peace, and at about 10:45, after Steve had gone home, and Pony and Soda had went to bed, Darry turned off the TV and headed to bed himself, actually looking forward to work the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again, Fanfictors! Here is chapter three, for those of you who have been waiting for it! I hope your reviews continue to pour in, 'cause I love to read them! You know the drill, the boys are not mine! *sob, sob, weep* On with the show!**

Brenda stared down at the little book in front of her. It was nearly 12 at night, but she couldn't bring herself to go to bed. Ever since she had been old enough to write, Brenda had recorded her thoughts on paper. At times, it was the only thing that had preserved her sanity. Tonight, her thoughts were mostly about her first day on the job, the handsome roofer in her uncle's crew… and the pain in her knees. She read over her journal entry.

Dear Journal,

My first day on the job was amazing! I love working with Uncle John, and am grateful that he has given me a job. The work is thought consuming and I love the typing involved. I can't wait to have enough money to buy a typewriter of my own. Then I can type all of my journal entries and save time.

I met one of my uncle's workers today, a young man by the name of Darrel. He's so tall! I have to crane my neck to look at him, but he seems nice enough. I learned that he has two brothers, one named Soda and one named Ponyboy! I have never heard such original names before, but I like them. I have to remember to say an extra prayer for Darrel tonight, though. His family has been through so much in the last year, according to Uncle John. I hope God will bring joy to their lives soon. Maybe if I say my prayers correctly, He will hear me and make a change in the life of Darrel and his brothers.

My knees remind me of the need to say my prayers correctly. Father tells me that messed up prayers anger the Lord. Tonight, I not only angered the Lord, but Father as well. As I was saying the Lord's Prayer, I messed up the phrase "Forgive us our trespasses", saying instead, "Forgive us our trespses". Father made me kneel on rice for an hour, repeating the prayer over and over until I said it correctly.

Sometimes I wonder if God is as harsh as Father makes Him out to be. I have read the Bible, and it says that God loves us. I don't think a God that loves us would treat us so badly, but Father seems to think so. I wish Mom was here to answer my questions, but I suppose I will know one day. I can't wait to have the money to leave. I guess it's time to go to sleep, since I have an early day tomorrow, so I will end this for tonight.

Sincerely,

Brenda Seale

Brenda rubbed her sore knees and could feel the grains of rice beneath the skin. She let her mind go back to Darrel. She really wanted to talk to him, but didn't want to endure the wrath of her Father if he were to find out. Her Father had beaten her more than once when he thought she was being flirtatious. This very thing had made Brenda fearful of all men. She often wondered if her husband would be the same as her father. He probably would be, especially if her father got to handpick him, as he was intending to do.

Brenda thought Darrel would make someone a good husband. He was handsome, strong, a good, hard worker, and obviously compassionate if he was willing to give up everything for his brothers. She briefly wondered if her father would like him as a potential husband for her, even. She quickly threw this thought away, however, knowing her father would never allow her to marry. He had often told her that a harlot such as herself would not be worthy of any man, therefore she would spend the rest of her days serving him. Brenda felt tears hit her eyes at this thought, knowing that this servitude would never stop unless she got enough money to leave. That was her goal, she thought, being able to leave her father's house one day and never look back. She turned off the light and went to bed, thinking of her life without her father's abuse, and of Darrel.

***The next morning***

Brenda arrived at work to find a note on her desk. Uncle John had told her that he would be back soon, as he needed to pick up some lumber, and she needed to set about her work as usual. She took her seat, and began to type equipment orders, soon becoming absorbed in the click clack of the keys and allowing her mind to drift freely.

A knock on the door broke Brenda from her thoughts. "Come in!" she said, continuing to type. She looked up at the sound of a throat clearing and was surprised to see Darrel standing in front of her. She felt herself blush as she said, "What can I help you with, si- I mean, Darrel?" He smiled at her correction.

"I was wondering if Mr. Watson would be back anytime soon with that lumber? We are nearly done with the section we are on and are going to need it sooner rather than later." He looked down shyly, as Brenda flipped through some papers on her desk, as if searching for an answer. Really, she was just looking for an excuse not to look into those piercing blue-green eyes. They reminded her of ice, in a way, and she could feel herself trembling as she thought of this man angry. The thought made her think of her father when he was angry. Brenda could feel her throat begin to constrict and her stomach turn as a panic attack came over her. Finally, after an awkward moment, the door opened and in walked her Uncle John, a smile on his face.

"Why hello Darrel, Brenda," he said, moving forward to shake Darrel's hand. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I was just wondering when the lumber was going to come in; we're almost ready for it," Darrel said, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned away from Brenda. She knew that she had made him uncomfortable with her silence, but the sound of her father's voice in her head yelling 'HARLOT!' had been enough to silence her and strike fear into her very soul. She tried to focus on her breathing as her uncle and Darrel talked, but her ears had begun to ring, and her vision was swimming.

After Darrel had left to help unload the lumber, her uncle turned to talk to her, but Brenda felt sick with fear and mumbled a quick "Excuse me" before running to the bathroom in the back of the trailer. She shut the door and knelt in front of the toilet, ignoring the pain in her knees. Her breakfast found its way into the porcelain bowl as her head spun and tears streamed down her face. She knew fear of a man she barely knew was irrational, but the years of her father's abuse had drilled it into her soul. When Brenda saw any man, especially one of Darrel's size, she immediately felt the sting of her father's belt and heard his harsh voice in her head. After she had finished, Brenda leaned against the wall and allowed the tears to come. She heard a soft knock on the door.

"Brenda? Are you alright, sweetheart?" her uncle's soft voice floated through the door. Brenda couldn't find her voice to answer, so she just reached over and opened the door, needing comfort from the only male figure she truly trusted. John came in and sat beside her, pulling her into his embrace. Her skirt had come up slightly when she had been kneeling and John caught glimpse of her rice-scarred knees. "Did Roger do that?!" he asked, shocked but not too much. He and Molly knew of Brenda's abuse and had offered to move her in with them on multiple occasions, but she had refused. The girl felt a need to make her own way, and, while John could understand that, it worried him. She nodded and he sighed. "Why don't you come and stay with us, honey? Please? I can't stand to see you like this."

"He would come after me," she sobbed. "He has before, when Mom and I left. Then it would be ten times worse." John remembered which time she spoke of, vividly. His sister had shown up the day after bruised and bleeding, as fearful of her husband as ever.

"What made you so scared after Darrel left?" he asked, changing the subject for a moment. Brenda looked up at John and took a deep, shaking breath.

"I really want to get to know him, honest I do, but every time I speak to him, I can hear Father shouting 'Harlot!' in my face. I don't want Darrel to see what kind of life I come from, Uncle John, 'cause he might… he might agree with Father. What if I'm not worth a man's love or even a man's friendship?"

John gently wiped a tear from his niece's face, smiling at her sadly. "Brenda, any man would be lucky to have you. And Darrel is tough around the edges, sure, but he has the biggest heart of anyone I know. Why don't you try talking to him, hmm? I'm sure he would enjoy talking to you as well." Brenda thought this over, nodding. Her uncle smiled, helping her to her feet. "As far as Roger goes, I am going to call him and tell him that you are staying with Molly and me for a few days. If he has anything to say, he can deal with the police after they see your knees. Let's go get you some clothes."

Brenda nodded, following her uncle back to the front of the trailer. After a brief phone conversation with her father, they went out to Uncle John's car. Her father had agreed to two days at the most, saying she was needed at home after that. John had begrudgingly agreed, hoping to convince Brenda to file charges in that time. After picking up some clothes for his niece, he took her home, telling her to rest for the remainder of the day.

Brenda was shown to the guest room by her Aunt Molly, who tucked her in. Brenda drifted to sleep, wondering what life held in store in the next few days.


	4. Chapter 4

**So, can I just say that I love my reviewers! Ya'll have been so encouraging, which makes me eager to write and post each chapter. I hope you all will continue to read and review, and enjoy my little story. This chapter takes place about three days after chapter three ended. I am just borrowing the boys, as ya'll know and only own Brenda and her family! On with the story!**

Darry had never been more grateful to be done with the work day. He had not been at his best, smashing three fingers under an unsteady hammer, then falling off the ladder as a result of his inability to get a good grip with his left hand. Luckily, he had only been about fifteen steps up, so no major damage had been done. He was ready to go home and stay in his chair for the rest of the night. It was Friday, so he would have the house to himself. He looked forward to the peace and quiet, mostly so he could watch the game later that night.

As he came out of the office after clocking out, Darry caught sight of a very distressed looking Brenda. He decided to go see what the trouble was and offer his help… if she didn't run from him. Darry had noticed she had spent the last few days avoiding him, and he wondered if he had offended her somehow. She seemed sweet enough, and Darry wanted to talk to her, since they would be working more closely when he completed his training and received his promotion, but she seemed to find some reason to disappear every time he came into the office. He shrugged off his thoughts as he walked over to her.

"Hey, what's got you looking all upset?" he asked casually. The girl, for the first time since they had met, seemed relieved to see him. He hoped that meant she wasn't going to run away from him anymore.

"I am so glad someone is still here! Uncle John had to leave early and this blasted thing-"she kicked the tire of her car in frustration "-won't start. It's got a full tank of gas, so I don't know what the problem is."

"Well, I'm no genius under the hood, but let me take a look," he replied, carefully reaching in and popping the hood. After checking the oil and the battery cables, he couldn't figure out what was wrong. "Well, I have no clue, but I know a couple of boys who might. Want me to call them for you?"

She hesitated for a moment, and, nodding, led Darry back toward the office. She unlocked it and motioned him in. "The phone is on Uncle John's desk. I really appreciate this."

Darry smiled at her quiet thank you. He could tell that the relief of receiving help was wearing off and that she was beginning to get nervous again. He dialed the number to the DX and waited; after a few minutes, a familiar voice came across the line. "DX, Soda speaking."

"Hey Sodapop, can ya'll come out to the work site and take a look at a car for me?" Darry cut right to the chase, knowing the station sometimes got busy this time of day.

"Yeah, Dare," Soda sounded concerned. "Is something up with the truck?"

"Nah, it's my boss's niece's car. Stupid thing won't start and I can't figure out the problem," he looked back at Brenda and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled shakily. She was bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other, looking around nervously. He hoped she didn't dart on him.

Soda agreed to come down with Steve as soon as the station closed. Darry knew that would be a couple of hours, but it would have to do. He thanked his brother and hung up the phone, turning back to Brenda. "Well, it's gonna be a couple of hours, so why don't I take you for some coffee or something?"

Brenda looked shocked by the invitation. Darry thought she was going to refuse, but instead she said, "That… sounds nice. Let me call Uncle John and let him know where I am going to be." With that, she picked up the phone and dialed quickly. Darry walked outside to give her some privacy. He didn't know why, but it made him happy that she had accepted his invitation. Maybe it was because he didn't want to leave her here alone, maybe it was because he wanted to talk to her, maybe he just wanted a cup of coffee; he didn't know, he just felt a smile crossing his face at the thought of having a conversation with this peculiar young woman.

A moment later, Brenda came out of the office and gave Darry a shy smile. He returned the smile and asked, "Is there anything you need out of the car before we leave?" She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. "Alright then, let's get going. Have you ever been to that little diner down the road?" She shook her head again. "Neither have I. How about we check it out?" She nodded. He smiled and walked her to his truck, opening the passenger side door for her. He extended a hand to help her up into the truck. She looked at it nervously, as if it might bite her. "Do you need a hand into the truck? I imagine it's hard to climb up in a skirt."

Seeming to realize he didn't mean to hurt her, she took his hand carefully and stepped up into the truck. He could feel the slight tremors going through her body and wondered briefly if this girl would always be afraid of him. After she had seated herself comfortably, Darry shut her door carefully; he went around the front of the truck and climbed in himself. He started the vehicle up and headed toward the small diner. He was about to say something about the traffic when he heard Brenda quietly say, "I like your truck. It's cozy."

"I've never heard it described that way before, but I'm glad you think so," he said, still shocked that she had started conversation. "Can I ask something that may be none of my business?"

"I don't see why not," she said, giving him a slight smile.

"Do you not burn up in those shirts?" Darry had wondered about that since the day Mr. Watson had invited him to lunch. Even though the office was a bit cooler than the rooftop, it was still warm. Brenda seemed surprised by this question. She thought a moment before she answered.

"Not really. I guess I have worn them for so long, I don't notice the heat anymore. Plus, I try to choose material that breathes, so the air can pass through," she looked down the entire time she was speaking, playing with the hem of her shirt.

"Well, that's good, I guess," Darry replied, thinking of another question he had. "Why do you wear long sleeves all the time? Once again, tell me if it's none of my business."

She looked flustered by this question. After a moment, she replied quietly, "My father has very strict modesty standards and this-" she pointed to her outfit "-is what he approves. Since I live in his house, I follow his rules." She seemed to get more nervous at the mention of her father, Darry noticed. He wondered how strict a man had to be to confine his daughter to long sleeve shirts and long skirts in the Tulsa heat. "Can I ask you a question?"

Darry started at the sound of her voice, not expecting her to speak, and nodded as he tried to bring himself back to attention. She thought for a moment, then said, "What's it like, having to be responsible for a family?" Darry thought for a second, deciding on the best answer he could.

"It's tough," he said, thinking as he spoke. "I worry all the time if we are going to make ends meet, if my brothers are cared for well enough, if…" Darry paused, wondering whether or not to reveal the last part to a girl he barely knew, then decided to go ahead. "… if my parents would be proud of me or not."

"I didn't know your parents, and I really don't know you, but," she paused, seeming to choose her words carefully, "if you were my son, I would be proud of you for stepping up and doing something most guys wouldn't have the courage to do." Darry smiled at her.

"I appreciate that, Brenda," he turned the truck into the diner parking lot and turned the switch off. "Shall we go see what they have?" She nodded, almost happily. He got out of the truck and walked around to her side, helping her out. They walked into the diner together and took a seat near the window.

The place was small, but nice. It seemed the kind of place that a family would come for Sunday dinner, real family friendly. The waitress came over and took their order for two cups of coffee. Darry smiled at Brenda across the table. "So what made you decide to come to work for Mr. Watson?"

"I love Uncle John, and he offered me a job when I finished my secretarial classes," Brenda smiled, perking up as she spoke of her uncle. "I hope to save up enough to buy my own typewriter. I love to write and I think typing would make everything so much neater." At that moment, the waitress came over and deposited two steaming cups of coffee on the table. While not paying attention, both of them reached for the napkins at the center of the table, and, in doing so, touched hands. They stayed like that for a moment; then pulled back at the same time, both with faces of a bright, fire engine red.

"Here you go," he said quietly, handing Brenda a napkin. She took it with a small smile, refusing to meet his eyes, her face still bright red. For the first time, Darry noticed how small her hands were; he was awed by the milky whiteness of her skin, which he had noticed in that brief touch was softer than silk. He realized that he had been staring this whole time and looked down at his coffee. Luckily, Brenda had been focused on her own cup and hadn't noticed his prolonged staring.

After a moment, Darry looked back up at her, taking a sip of the hot beverage in front of him. He noticed her mousy brown hair, which was pulled into a tight French braid, and wondered how long it really was. She looked up; she caught his eye, and then looked away quickly. Her eyes were a deep, soft brown, and reminded him of a doe's eyes: innocent, fearful, yet oh so sweet. He noticed the freckles scattered across her nose, and her thin, naturally pink lips. She was… cute; gorgeous, no, but not at all ugly. He realized in that moment how long it had been since he had really noticed a woman, especially in that way, and felt a smile cross his face.

"Darrel, are you ok?" she asked, breaking him from his thoughts. He shook himself back to the present and nodded at her. "Ok… Did you hear what I asked?" Darry racked his brain and realized he had not; he shook his head sheepishly. "I wanted to know how long you've been working for Uncle John?"

"Two years last Sunday, I believe," he said, grinning at the memory of his dad taking him to meet Mr. Watson so he could start saving for college; Mr. Watson had hired him on the spot and he had been there ever since. "My dad set me up with the job the summer before I graduated high school and I've been there ever since. It was something we did together."

"I am sorry about your parents. I lost my mom about five years ago and I miss her every day," she looked down at her coffee, a soft smile crossing her face as she remembered her mom. Darry reached across the table and placed his hand carefully over hers, squeezing gently. She seemed startled, jumping and pulling away. He pulled back, realizing that was a stupid mistake. "I am sorry; I'm not used to being comforted like that, and it startled me."

He nodded, giving her a small smile. "I should apologize; I shouldn't have done that without permission. You just looked so sad." She smiled gently at him, and he felt stupid with his next statement, an off-hand attempt at a compliment: "You know they say cold hands mean a warm heart, right?" She let out a chuckle, nodding. Darry gave another smile, glancing at his watch. "I think time got away from us. We should head back to the site and meet Soda; he should be there by now."

With that, they left their seats, walking out and getting into the truck. At the site, just as Darry thought, were Soda and Steve with a tow truck. Mr. Watson was there with them, watching over their work and chatting light-heartedly with Soda. When he saw Brenda, he came over to his two employees.

"Hey, Darrel, Brenda," he said, shaking Darry's hand. "Thank you for taking care of her for me. Brenda, they are going to have to pull your car in, so I figured you would like a ride back to the house. What do you say?" Brenda nodded, turning to Darry.

"Thank you again for your help. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been here," she said, having to look up at him. She stood barely five feet tall, and was dwarfed by his six foot two stature. No wonder the girl was scared of him, he thought. Darry nodded, giving her a grin. She turned to walk away, and he realized it was now or never.

"Brenda!" he said, catching her attention. "I was wondering if you would like to go for breakfast one morning before work. I would like to get to know you better." She blushed, looking at her uncle. He nodded encouragingly.

"I would like that, Darrel," she took out a pen out of her purse and a piece of paper, scribbled down her uncle's number, and handed it to Darry with a smile. He tucked it away in his pocket, and, as she walked away, wondered if this could be the start of something great.


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, here is yet another chapter! I hope you will read and review! I have to warn you that this chapter is going to be a little intense. There is a mild rape reference. I do not own the boys, and hope you enjoy the story!**

Brenda had never felt so giddy in all her life. She had never been asked to go out with anyone before, not even friends in high school, and now she had a date with Darrel. At least, she thought it was a date. She would have to ask. At her uncle's house, she began to help Aunt Molly prepare dinner, a smile on her face the entire time. He still scared her slightly, but she knew that she needed to take a risk if she ever wanted to have a future away from her father and his way of life. The phone ringing, however, shattered the illusion that things might get better.

"Hello?" her uncle said, then straightened his back, his face darkening. "Roger, I thought she could stay- I understand her place is with you, but- No, I am not trying to be her father, but her car-"he stopped, waiting on her father to finish. "Alright Roger, I will bring her home, but if she shows up with rice marks on her knees again, I will call the police!" With that, her uncle slammed the phone down in frustration. "Brenda, I have to take you home before he comes up here, but if he lays a hand on you, call the police, then call me, got it?"

Brenda felt her heart and stomach drop to her feet. She knew her father would have a punishment awaiting her. She had shown a man her knees, and she hadn't obeyed his wishes and come home after two days. She winced as she felt a belt in her future.

The drive to her father's was silent. When her uncle stopped in her driveway, she hugged him and asked him to tell Darrel she would speak with him at work, should he call. With that, she got out of the car and made her way into the house. "Brenda Judith Seale, get in here right now!" She winced at the sound of her father's voice. He was angry, which never bode well for her. She slowly made her way to the kitchen, where he was sitting at the table, his leather belt laying on top of it. "Have a seat. Brenda, do you remember my friend Jack?" Brenda nodded as she sat. She had a bad feeling about where this was headed. "Well, Jack just recently got a job in that new diner across town and he called me with some very interesting information." Roger lifted the belt from the table and stood to his feet. Brenda felt her heart sink. He walked behind her, putting his hand on her arm. "He told me that my daughter was at his diner this afternoon with a young man and they were holding hands." He gripped her arm painfully and jerked her to her feet. She was thrown to the floor, before feeling the sting of the belt across her back. "How dare-" another lash with the belt, "-you play-" the belt came down again, and Brenda cried out in pain, wanting it to stop, "-the whore-" he lashed her five more times with the belt in quick succession, the buckle coming around and hitting her stomach painfully, "-in your father's house!" He continued the lashing for a few more strikes, throwing the belt at her when he finished. "Get up!"

Brenda stayed where she was, sobbing as her body throbbed. He jerked her painfully to her feet by her hair. "Please, stop!" she cried, as he drug her to the closet.

"I will not have a harlot in my house! I refuse! You can stay here and fast, and pray the Lord will have mercy on you for your sins!" With this, he threw her into the closet, her face hitting the wall painfully, busting her nose and lip wide open. She could feel the blood pouring down her face as she curled into a fetal position on the floor. The pain from the belt lashing was burning its way through her back and stomach, and she knew the welts would be present for weeks to come. She began to pray silently, but not for forgiveness or mercy. She prayed God would save her. She prayed that He would take her from this hell however He chose to do so. She thought back to the last time she had been locked in the closet. She had only be thirteen then, and her mother had still been alive.

_Brenda's mom had taken her to the doctor because of the trouble she had been having with her monthly cycle. The doctor had given her birth control pills to help regulate her and relieve the cramps. As they made their way back to the car, Brenda's mother turned to her. "Brenda, I need you to hide those pills. If your father finds them, he will have a fit. Ok, sweetheart?" Brenda nodded, understanding her mother's concern. Her father did not believe in birth control of any sort, and the consequences would be dire should he find the pills in his house._

_ For a week or so, everything was fine. Her father had no clue about the pills. Then, one morning, Brenda dropped her purse in the kitchen. Her father saw the pills and his anger was immediate. "What is this, Elizabeth?" He threw the pack at her mother and grabbed Brenda by the arm. "Why is our daughter on birth control pills?"_

_ "Roger, please be reasonable, they are to help with her periods-"her mother began to try and reason with Brenda's dad, the fear apparent on her face. Roger threw Brenda to the floor and advanced on her mother. He pulled her to her feet by the hair of her head and slapped her face._

_ "My daughter will not play the whore in my house! Is that clear?!" he slapped Elizabeth again, throwing her against the wall. Her head hit first and knocked her unconscious. He went over to where Brenda was laying on the floor, pulling her to her feet. He twisted her arm behind her back and whispered in her ear menacingly, "Do you know what happens to girls who take those pills?" She shook her head. He jerked her out of the kitchen and to the garage, where he threw her into the car. He got behind the wheel and begun to drive._

_ They pulled up about ten minutes later at a small, dilapidated house in an awful section of town. Her father drug her inside, where three men were sitting, smoking. "Gentlemen, I have a girl here who needs to be taught a lesson. She is on the pill, so no need to hold back. Have fun." With that, her father took a seat as the men advanced on her. Over the next hour, Brenda begged for death several times. When they arrived back at home, her father had locked her in the closet for three days with no food or water, just a bruised and broken body, and her nightmares._

Brenda had never forgotten the awful things her father had allowed to happen to her. The nightmares still woke her at night, and she had been left with a fear that she had no clue how to alleviate. He had beaten her mother and thrown away the pills. The pain had subsided a bit, so Brenda sat up. She took her skirt and wiped the blood from her face, feeling the swelling in her nose and lips. She wondered how much damage he had done to her back this time. Last time, she had barely been able to sleep because the welts were so sore for days afterwards. She decided at that moment that if she ever got out of this closet, she was going to the police. She was getting out, one way or another. She laid back down and fell into a restless sleep, wondering when he would let her out, wondering if anyone would come looking for her; maybe her uncle or… dare she hope…. Darrel.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone! So I know the last chapter may have been a shock to everyone, but I hope it helps you realize why Brenda is so afraid of Darry and her dad. This next chapter is set about a month after the end of chapter five. I hope you enjoy! The boys are in my basemen—I mean, not mine! A little humor for you, now on with the story.**

Brenda looked into the mirror. The swelling in her face had gone down, but she could still see the bruising around her eyes and nose. Her lip had luckily busted on the inside, so that was not visible. This was the only time she had ever defied her father by wearing makeup. She used concealer and powder to hide as much of the bruising as possible, knowing her uncle would go ballistic if he saw it. After deeming the makeup job the best she could get it, she stashed the concealer in her purse and left the house for the walk to work.

Her back and legs throbbed from the beating she had received. She had looked in the mirror last night and all she had seen were ugly purple welts from the top her shoulders to the bend of her knees. Her three weeks in the closet had been agony, her body stiff and throbbing. Her father had used juice to sustain her while she was in the closet. She had lost ten pounds, and her already slight build had become even smaller. She could even see a few of her ribs when she looked in the mirror. She had been let out twice a day to use the restroom, and to call her uncle. She had told him that she was sick and would not be at work. He had seemed suspicious, but told her to feel better soon and to call if she needed him.

Her walk to work was long and slow, but she finally arrived. Her uncle seemed surprised to see her; his surprise turned to concern when he saw how slow she seemed to be walking, and how painful it seemed to be for her to sit down. "Hey sweetheart, why didn't you call me to come get you?"

"I wanted to walk," she said, refusing to meet his eyes. He looked at her with concern. He knew something was wrong; he had witnessed his sister give excuses many times before for the beatings her husband had given her, and he recognized the heavy coat of makeup on his niece's face.

"Brenda, did Roger do something to keep you from work these past few weeks?" Uncle John gently tilted her chin toward him, forcing her to look him in the eye. In person, Brenda was a horrible liar, which is why she always refused to meet people's eyes when she was telling a lie. One look into his niece's eyes told John all he needed to know. "Oh, sweetie…" he mumbled, pulling her into his arms. He could feel her wince as he squeezed, and he saw purple peeking from beneath the collar of her shirt. He also felt her ribs beneath her shirt. Anger filled his heart at the thought of what had been done to her.

"His friend saw Darrel and me together at the diner and he went ballistic," Brenda whispered, fear in her voice. "I don't know what I'm going to do, but I have to get out. I can't do this anymore."

"Don't worry, we'll figure it out. You know you have a place with your aunt and me. We need to get some legal measures in place so he can't try and make you come back, though. After work today, we are going to go down to the police station, and file for a restraining order. Do you want me to take you to the house? You are in no condition to be at work today."

"I'm ok, Uncle John," Brenda said quickly. "I was hoping to get some work done today and… maybe talk to Darrel." John smiled.

"Alright, but if you get to feeling too bad, let me know." Brenda smiled at her uncle and set to typing up equipment orders. Her work took her mind off her back. At lunch, Brenda walked outside to see if she could locate a certain roofer. As expected, Darrel could be seen walking toward the office. When he saw her, he quickened his pace. He smiled at her.

"Hey, I've been wondering where you were at," he said. "I left your car with your uncle. Wanna come sit on the truck and talk?" Brenda nodded, walking over to the truck with Darrel. She tried to walk as naturally as possible, not wanting him to get suspicious. They reached the truck and, as Darrel let down the tailgate, Brenda faced a new dilemma: How was she going to hoist herself onto the tailgate when she could barely walk without falling over in pain. Darrel seemed to notice her hesitation. "Skirt in your way again, huh?" he said, smiling sympathetically at her. She was grateful for the excuse, and nodded at him. "Here, let me help. I'm going pick you up, if that's alright." She nodded, although she was a little nervous about being lifted. He smiled and grabbed her around the waist gently. She felt a jolt of electricity go up her back as his hands touched her. She could feel herself blushing, as he lifted her carefully and settled her on the back of his truck. He sat beside her, smiling. "So where have you been?"

"I was…. Sick," she said quietly, looking at her hands. She hated lying, but she couldn't tell him that her father had beaten her for going out for coffee. "Stomach virus, couldn't seem to shake it."

"I thought you had lost some weight," he said, seemingly pleased with her explanation. "So, I never got to take you out. Do you have any plans for tonight?" Brenda could feel panic building in her heart. She wanted to say yes, but the pain in her back seemed to grow every time she even thought of the word. _Your father won't be able to do anything about it, _she thought to herself. _You're going to make sure of that. Uncle John will protect you._

"I would enjoy that," she said, her voice shaking. No matter how much she reassured herself, she felt as if she had just signed her own death certificate. "I will be staying with my uncle for a while."

"That's great! How about I pick you up around seven tonight?" Darrel said, a grin crossing his face. Brenda nodded and was about to say something when her uncle came over to them. "Hey Mr. Watson!"

"Hey Darrel, I see that you and Brenda are getting better acquainted," he said, winking at the boy. He turned to his niece. "Brenda, I thought we might go take care of those… errands we talked about earlier. I'm sure Darrel can handle things here for a little while, right, Darrel?" Darrel nodded, still grinning like a Cheshire cat at the prospect of dinner with Brenda that night.

"That sounds good, Uncle John," she said, a small smile on her face. "Darrel asked me to go out with him tonight, if that's alright with you." John smiled, nodding his consent. He turned to Darry, a mock severity in his stare.

"You better take good care of my niece, or I will skin you," he wagged his finger playfully at the younger man, trying to hold back a laugh. Darry gave a mock salute, hopping off the back of the truck. He turned to Brenda and smiled.

"Need some help getting down before I go back to work?" he asked, holding his hands out. Brenda nodded, and allowed Darrel to lift her off of the back of the truck. Once again, sparks shot up her spine when his hands touched her. She wondered if this is what it was to be attracted to someone. "I will see you tonight," Darrel said, waving at her as he jogged back to the building.

Brenda and her uncle headed for his car. As they drove toward the police station, Brenda found herself suddenly nervous. She had no clue what would happen when she told her story. Would the police believe her? Would they put her father in jail? Would the tyranny finally be over? They pulled into the police station parking lot and walked into the station.

The next hour was spent talking to a female officer about her father's abuse and signing paper work to put a restraining order into effect. Brenda thought the interview was almost over, when the officer turned to her and said, "We need some pictures for the judge. Do you have any objections, Brenda?" Brenda felt herself began to shake at the prospect of showing someone her body. Although she wasn't as compulsive about modesty as her father, Brenda didn't want to wear some of the things other girls wore, and she _certainly _didn't want pictures taken of her body. "You can have your uncle in the room with you, if you like. I promise it will be very discreet. I just want pictures of mostly your back and face, perhaps your legs. This will only help prove to a judge that your father needs to be kept away from you." Brenda nodded after a moment's consideration.

The officer led her to a room with a paper screen and frosted glass in the door. After undressing and hanging her clothes on the screen, Brenda was given a paper gown, much like the type used in hospitals. Brenda slid the gown on and stepped out. She had been allowed to keep her underwear on, a fact she was thankful for. She was given a couple of moist paper towels to remove the makeup from her face, which brought an audible gasp from her uncle at the sight of her bruises. The officer asked her to close her eyes against the flash and began to snap pictures from different angles. After finishing with her face, the officer asked her to turn her back and open the gown. Her uncle made a choked sound in the back of his throat at the sight of her bruised back and legs. The officer snapped picture after picture of Brenda's back and legs, then counted the bruises. There were 37 welts total.

Brenda was allowed to redress. She was then given a copy of the report, and was told she would be called when the restraining order came into effect. Her uncle then drove her home so she could get ready for her night out with Darrel. Despite the events of the day, Brenda was excited to be able to spend some time with Darrel. She was beginning to trust him slightly. He was really polite and had never tried to hurt her. She wanted desperately to know him better, and hoped tonight would be a step in the right direction.

There was one more burning question on her mind, though: What in the world would she wear?

**So what do ya'll think of Brenda's little girly moment? I thought that would be a nice inclusion in a rather serious chapter. Now, I need your help as my readers. Where should Darry take Brenda for their date? Let me know in a review!**


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